


Ground Rules

by The_White_Rabbit42



Series: Home for the Holidays [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12928761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: You finally arrive at your destination where you find the accommodations aren’t quite what you expected.





	Ground Rules

Gabriel had fallen asleep again, which was for the best.  Your trip had taken longer than anticipated once you got into the heart of the country.  Winding, one-laned scenic roads replaced interstates and highways, making it tough to make good time when you became stuck behind slower cars.  The only things you passed anymore were lakes, rivers, trees, and the occasional small town that broke up the stretches of untouched countryside.  

 

You had just passed through the last little pocket of humanity left on the drive when he began to stir.  He ran a hand over his face, his fingers continuing up through his hair.  It took some time for gold to shake its glassy look as he scanned the surrounding area, and you had a feeling he was going to end up being one of those slow to wake individuals who needed to ease into their day.

 

After a few minutes he cleared his throat, his voice a little scratchy.  “Anyone else and I’d be worried about why we’re headed this far into the woods.”  

 

He didn’t sound like he was joking.  

 

“I have plenty of places to hide bodies that are much closer to Kansas,” you reassured him, trying to keep things light.  He let out a soft snort but left things there, drawn in once more by his thoughts or the scenery.  You weren’t sure which anymore.  

 

It took another fifteen minutes before your turn came into view, and you were glad to see the gates were open.  You had debated whether or not to come in the back way, but over the river and through the woods seemed the best way to arrive without drawing attention.  Your current plates were from Arkansas, an unusual state to be visiting from up this far.  

 

You made your way between the stone pillars, easing up the long, sloping driveway.  When you crested the hill, the treeline broke and the inn came into view.  The grounds were different from the last time you stayed.  You were used to thick woods, lush lawn, green as far as the eye could see.  Everything had become faded, muted now that autumn’s colorful song had passed, leaving only brittleness and bare branches behind.  A number of tall pines was the only spark of color along with the bright white siding of the structure itself, and you imagined it must be quite the sight to be there when the bulk of the fall transformation happened.  

 

The snow would come and change all that.  There was that dry, winter nip in the air that promised  _ soon _ .  A series of aches flared throughout your body, and you weren’t certain it was just due to the thought of a winter storm, the long drive, or if it was another set of memories unlocking beneath your skin.  

 

Nothing good had ever brought you here, yet you felt a sense of calm as you neared the building.  You had spent more time here than any other place over the last several years.  It might have been as close to home as you came.  

 

“We’re staying  _ here _ ?”  Gabriel asked, disbelief dripping from his words as he stared up at the structure.

 

You weren’t sure what he was expecting.  Considering that hunting didn’t really go hand in hand with having any resources, he probably anticipated staying in some run down, oversized house that tried to pass as habitable.  Red and Roxy weren’t your average hunters, however, and this place was probably a little more impressive than your standard inn.   

 

The architecture was a mixture of a few traditional New England styles with modern additions.  The original structure had three floors, with each room having its own set of windows. Somewhere along the way, a small addition had been added along the side, which was only two levels high, making the building appear to wrap around itself.  The previous owners had used it for mostly storage and to house supplies.  Your friends had turned it into a small apartment for themselves so they could live on site.  

 

There was a wraparound porch that ran along the front entrance facing the east, making it a prime spot to watch the sunrise or spend the morning.  You could see a few of the chairs still remained, though most had been removed in anticipation of the colder weather.  

 

“Well  _ I’m  _ staying here.  If you have a problem with it, you can always stay in the barn,” you teased, inclining your head up at the large, red building you were just passing as you made your way around toward the back entrance.  

 

He had no other comments after that.

 

The inside was far different than the exterior.  Quiet, dark, and eerie, it currently looked more like a potential case.  It didn’t help that your friends were obviously in the midst of some construction.  While clean, plastic sheeting hung down across walls and overlaid every doorway you passed as you made your way to the front of the building.  Most of the furniture had been covered with sheets and the floors removed, leaving thick boards of plywood as the only thing that stood between you and the basement.  You noted that the kitchen, thankfully, appeared fully functional and ready as you passed through the hallway that connected to the main entrance.  

 

You didn’t bother switching on the lights until you reached the front foyer, dispelling the gloomy atmosphere.  The large open area was welcoming, adorned with bright colored wood that gave the room a cozy, rustic feel.  The front desk sat off to the side, bare, save for a white envelope with your name across it.  The fact that the script was neat and legible suggested Roxy was the one who had left it.

 

You picked it up, noting the unusual heaviness to it before you opened the flap.  Inside was an antique key and a note written in the same handwriting.

 

_ Sorry about how the place looks - we finally got around to renovating, but needed a few more things before we could finish.  We managed to get one of the rooms completed after you called.  Here’s the key.  We left to get the rest of what we needed this morning and should be back in about a week. _

 

Your brow crept up.  What exactly did they require that took them that long to get?

 

_ Help yourself to whatever you need (if you can find it - and if you do, please put it back some place that makes sense since Red’s idea of organization translates to out of sight).   _

 

Your lips pulled up, imagining your friend’s frustration at her other half’s less than stellar ability to keep track of anything that wasn’t ammo or weaponry. 

 

_ Oh and just one more thing - I haven’t gotten a chance to discuss that thing we talked about.   _

 

The thing?  You didn’t remember any  _ thing _ , unless...

 

You frowned, mentally rolling your eyes sky high.  She  _ didn’t _ .  

 

_ You know… the large, feathered elephant in the room.   _

 

Oh sweet Chuck she  _ did _ .  She had lost her nerve to tell Red his mortal enemy would be living under his roof by the time he returned (and that Gabriel really  _ wasn’t  _ an enemy at all).  

 

You sighed.  What the hell were you supposed to do now?

 

_ One cluster at a time _ .   

 

You were getting awfully tired of telling yourself that.

 

_ We’ll figure it out though.  We always do.   _

 

Sure you did.  Usually around the eleventh hour or after the storm had already hit. 

 

“Something wrong?” Gabriel asked, his body moving closely behind yours as he peered over your shoulder.  Your instincts flailed as snippets of sensation exploded across your system --

 

\--  _ white sterile tile, unforgiving fingers digging tight into your skin, your entire body burning, from the harsh antiseptic smell in your nose, to the tears in your eyes, to the heavy rage and betrayal searing through your veins --  _

 

\-- and you let out a yelp, clutching the paper to your chest as you spun around.  Hearing his voice was the only thing that kept you from attacking him.  Mostly.  You hit him soundly in the chest, your panic quickly morphing into irritation.  

 

“Yeesh, someone’s jumpy these days.”  The look he gave you contradicted the flippant remark, helping to dampen some of your ire.  

 

“Of course I’m jumpy, I’m a hunter” you reminded him, hoping to ease some of the worry on his face.  “A very sleep deprived one.”

 

“Shall we fix that?” He asked.  “Because my next suggestion would be to disarm you if you have other plans.”

 

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.  He still looked more serious than anything, but his words began to shake off some of their stiffness. 

 

“Rule number one: always stay armed,” you informed him.  

 

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that rule’s been broken from the start,” he replied.  

 

You blinked once.  Twice.  Because it was sure as hell better than unleashing the fury that flowed into your veins.  “They didn’t give you anything?”

 

“They didn’t even trust me with the toaster,” he said bitterly.  

 

Just when you thought your opinion of the Winchesters couldn’t get any worse.  

 

You reached across your body, clenching your jaw so hard you were likely ensuring that some dentist’s kid was getting put through college in the near future.  You unclipped the gun from your side and offered it to him.  “Every other bullet in this is a devil’s trap.  You can have it until we get you your own.”

 

He looked impressed for a moment as he took it from you, testing the weight in his hand before his eyes flicked back up to you.  “What about you?”

 

You lifted the other side of your shirt to reveal a second weapon.  

 

“Can’t be too careful these days,” you explained, shifting slightly as that intense look overtook his gaze again.  “Come on.  Let’s go find our room.”  You brushed past him, eager to escape his scrutiny.  

 

“Wait -  _ room _ ?” He echoed after a few moments.  You pulled the key out of the envelop and held it up over your head, hearing his footsteps hastily moving to catch up with you.  You braced yourself, waiting for him to make some comment, but he didn’t say another word.  

 

You almost preferred he did.  You knew how to handle his jokes; the silence, however, was harder to navigate, especially when there seemed to be so much of it.  

 

Thankfully the room wasn’t far.  It was one of the first on the second floor.  You slid the key into the lock, giving it a firm turn before pushing your way in.  What you walked in on had your eyes growing wide.  

 

The design was a combination of intricate masonry and warm wooden tones.  The hardwood flooring was intact, recently replaced but still retaining a rustic, worn look to it.  To the right lay a fireplace and mantel, built from stone and laid into the wall with a small outcropping in front of it, where spare wood and tools for the fire were stored.  

 

The wall adjacent to it and across from it both had windows, and you realized this was the room that sat in the front corner of the house, giving you the best view of the sunrise and surrounding area.  The incredible view became lost on you, however, as your eyes remained riveted on the furniture… or lack thereof.  

 

A solitary bed adorned the area, looking almost out of place with it’s antique headboard stained several shades darker than the floor and plush throw pillows and comforter.  You would bet the sheets were just as lavish, and you almost dropped your face into your palm.  What were you supposed to do now?  There was no way you were going to make him sleep on the floor and your body was in no condition to try and brave it.  

 

“You know, if you wanted to snuggle, all you had to do was ask,” Gabriel teased, doing his best to give you space as he peered in around the opposite side of the doorframe.  This time there was  _ something _ beneath his tone, breathing life back into his words and features as he gave you the tiniest smirk.   

 

“Rule number two:,” you announced, “Keep your hands to yourself…”


End file.
